Last Thursday was one of those days you want to crawl back in bed, pull the covers to your nose, and wait until midnight strikes for a new day.  I found myself bawling over a bathroom floor covered in toilet water.  See, my son Vahn is a mischievous one and always is interested in how things work and cause and affect (is that a correct sentence?  there are too many and’s I think. oh well.).  Sometimes its hilarious and sometimes, well, not so much.  I thought he was going potty, however taking a little too long.  I yelled at him to get out of the bathroom (many times he plays at the sink with stuff).  I then hear water running, like the sound of the bathtub being turned on.  I yell at him to turn off the water and proceed to the bathroom for a chat about not fooling around in the bathroom (again).  I get to the bathroom and he is nekkid and trying to gingerly walk through the water so as not to slip.  It had already started flowing out of the bathroom.  I quickly went and turned the water off, then got a couple towels to stop it from coming out any further.  In my low, scary, mommy only uses it when she is about to blow up voice, I told him to go upstairs.  I didn’t trust myself to be around him.  I was already on the brink of overwhelmed due to some stuff I told my hubby I would help him do (that’s what you get for trying to be a good wife).  After the towel was put down, I sat in the doorway of the bathroom and bawled, and bawled, and bawled some more.  I resolved to scrape this stuff back on my hubby’s plate.  It has just become lead in my pocket.  I think because my heart really isn’t into it, and it seems to be just one more thing to commit to.  Anyways, after I wiped my slobbering mess, I had to clean the bathroom and do a couple loads of laundry of clothes (there was a pile of dirty clothes on the floor now wet with toilet water), rugs, and towels.  Apparently this sweet son of mine, piece by piece, placed a whole roll of toilet paper in the toilet and flushed.  Aaahh the joys of a curious little boy.

I love God’s sense of humor sometimes.  My hubby had just got paid for the month and wanted to do something nice for me.  I talked to him and cried my whoas later in the day.  He told me he had some extra stuff for me to do the next day after my appointment.  I sighed, more crap to do.  He said I would like it.  He came home that night with an appointment to get a mani/pedi (it doesn’t matter how busy a place is, they always remember me because he is the one who makes me appointments, and I think I have found my favorite place) and a gift card for my favorite little coffee shop.

On friday, I went to my appointment, bought a book, went to Ava Roaseria’s for lunch and coffee, then went to get my nails all prettied up.

Whenever I get really frustrated with Kevin, it seems he does something which then makes me feel like a shmuck.  The funny thing is, I don’t tell him I am frustrated and he has no clue.  He will just show up with something nice like flowers or a gift card for coffee.